


Opening Suite

by Scrumpadouchus



Series: Polyphony in Parts [2]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, Courting Rituals, F/M, First Love, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, Romantic Soulmates, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-26 19:30:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19012381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrumpadouchus/pseuds/Scrumpadouchus
Summary: Birds brawl it out, and a choice is made.





	Opening Suite

**Author's Note:**

> First time bird-fic I've been sitting on for a long time. I listened to The Dear Hunter Bitter Suite I+2 a lot when originally writing this. (particularly suite I, the slower one, not the dime part), so that was fun. Also, this short-but-sweet art fueled me hard into writing awkward-early-love-birds. (https:// artsysera.tumblr. com/post/179089407478)
> 
> Again, I'm not the best smut-writer but I hope you enjoy.

  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-

“So Xayah, I’m thinking we really should go see this seer-lady. Might be really cool!” 

She wouldn’t, of course not. There was a snowball’s chance in the void that she’d say yes, but he had _hope_. 

She turns to face him with her classic blank expression, watching him like he had just claimed that the earth was flat. He gives her a hopeful grin and waits. 

Spirits bless him, she was cute today. Xayah was always cute, beautiful, gorgeous, those eyes even as she rolls them at him, those lips even as she purses them. Rakan watches her, brain fuzzing up as he listens to her song, golden violin soaring with ferocity. It sets his skin buzzing just to be near her. 

Oh. She’s talking. _Whoops_. 

“ – would we do that?” 

Uh, he was gonna have to guess that one. Easy enough. 

“I’ve been to her before. Fifty percent of the time she’s right a hundred percent of the time. Those are good odds, Xayah. It’s free real estate.” 

Xayah doesn’t seem impressed. Rakan steps quick, ( _one-two-one-three_!) and weaves to stand in front of his partner once again as she turned to walk away. 

“No no no! Trust me, it’ll be _great_. I’ve only heard good things whenever I’ve been through here. She has the gift of sight. Not literally, but who needs working eyes when you can see the future?” 

“You can go if you’ve interest. I’ve got to go track down whoever the hell Crocus is.” 

_Who was Crocus again_ ? It had something to do with their last fight, but he’d be damned if he remembered. 

Ah well. That’s what Xayah was for, after all. 

“Okay. Meet up at the inn?” 

“Will you remember?” 

“Of course!” 

“Then yes. Don’t do anything dumb.” 

“When do I ever?” 

He sees her hesitate then, in the interim between the ending of he conversation and the actual parting. If they were lovers or if they were _mated_ , this would be the moment where they’d kiss or touch foreheads. Rakan can read people well - at least he likes to think so – and he acutely senses her struggle, but just like _that_ it was gone again. She nods briskly before she turns away, then walks in the opposite direction. 

-=-==- 

The seer was a Vastaya from an independent tribe. Rakan hadn’t ever met any like her on his travels and didn’t bother asking any personal questions to the psychic. 

It would ruin the mystery, after all! 

The humans might confuse the seer as a human, but that was their own ignorance. The woman was slight and short, but oozed with natural magicks. Her long hemp robe concealed any tail or ears, fur or feathers – if there were indeed any at all to be had – and her grey, foggy eyes concealed angled pupils, yet it couldn’t conceal her true nature. 

Her name was Kohtahl, and she could read soul links. 

Humans called it the ‘red string of fate’, but in reality it was not a physical string, but rather a connection between souls in the spirit realm, bleeding over to influence the physical world. 

Humans, being solely bound to the mortal realm were rarely gifted with having such a thing. Still, Kohtahl did ‘soulmate’ readings for mortals and she rarely made a mistake with her matchmaking -though that could just be a happy coincidence. 

But with her Vastayan customers, she could tell who had a destined soulmate and whom did not. She saw the links with her minds eye and accurately relayed the info back to her customers – for the right price. Many fans had dragged Rakan here to check and see if they were the lucky soulmate but to no avail. 

Still, Rakan wanted to bring Xayah here, just for _fun_. 

… 

Okay, maybe not just for fun. He had a hunch, you see. 

There’s a humming, a vibrating excitement that runs through him whenever he sees Xayah. Seeing her for the first time hadn’t sparked the same banal curiosity that brought him to most strangers. That was there too, of course, but under that intrigue was something _more_. He had followed that instinct, and the more he indulged it the more he _knew_. 

He’s sure she knew it too. Xayah just didn’t recognise it yet. 

“Back again, Rakan? It’s been a few years.” Kohtahl smiles at him from her seat under a budding orange tree. Hood up, peeks of her orange hair could still be seen around the fabric. “Alone this time, I see.” 

“You _see_? Did something change since the last time I was here?” He asks playfully, then takes a seat on a patch of grass across from her. 

“Nothing that extraordinary.” 

“Hah! Indeed.” He digs around in his pocket and throws her a bronze piece. She traces it with her fingertips for a second, nods and pockets it into her change purse. “You’re cheap today.” 

“Like you said, I’m alone! Full price requires a second person.” 

“You’re lucky I like you.” She shuffles to sit up straighter, omits a professional air. “What is your question then, truth-seeker?” 

“Uh, this is awkward. I didn’t think of anything.” 

“No?” Her mouth curves into a small smile. “Then why did you come to see me?” 

“I’m thinking of bringing a lady here -do you still provide the same services?” 

“Oh? This is a change from your usual. Breaking more hearts, I see.” 

“Hey! That was just them playing around. This time it’s serious.” 

“Is it?” 

Rakan winks. “Why don’t you tell me.” Then remembers that she was visually impaired. “I just winked, just so you know.” 

“I appreciate your narration.” She says sarcastically. “Was the bronze piece just for courtesy? You don’t need to pay me to speak to me, you know.” 

“Well I know _now_. Can I have my money back?” 

She scoffs and waves him away. “Go bring back your heartfire. Want me to lie if you’re not soulmates? It’ll probably get you an easy in. Especially since late spring will soon be upon us. You’ll be wanting someone, right?” 

That seemed a bit more dishonest than he’d be comfortable with. Xayah could probably tell, too. It wouldn’t be fair either to falsely claim the spot meant for someone else. Maybe with others; a little smooth talk, a little embellishing to have a nice night - but never with her. 

“No.” Rakan replies, “I doubt you would, anyway. Not your style.” 

She smiles at him. “You’d be right. Now go - I’ll be waiting” 

=-=-=- 

Xayah stalks towards another guard, clears her throat. Well, she says _guard_ , but rather it’d be more accurate to say mercenary. Ionia’s military was meagre to her knowledge, and what did exist had been mostly decimated by Noxus in the past years. Such a small town as this wouldn’t have properly trained guards, so this man was likely just some random sell-sword hired to protect the town. He keeps staring straight ahead, watching the gated entrance with a simple-minded determination. 

“Excuse me?” She taps on his armour. It made a pleasant _ping_ sound. Reluctantly, the guard’s eyes slide down to regard her. 

“You’re obstructing my duty, stranger.” 

“Doing what? Staring at nothing?” 

He bristles. She’s pushing it, now. Must be more of a brute than the average peasant sell-sword. She follows up quickly with a second comment. 

“Listen, I’m not here for trouble, I just want to know if there’s someone named Crocus here.” 

“Crocus? No such person here.” 

“Is that so?” 

The guard glares at her as if a mere look could convince her to leave, but his intimidation doesn’t go far. She may be short, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d be surprised if the man had even listened to her question. 

“Listen _Vastaya_ , I don’t know how you people communicate, but when I say there’s no one named Crocus here, I mean there’s _no one here by that name_. I don’t play mind-games, least not with creatures like you.” 

“Clearly, you’ve not the intelligence for it either.” She spits, turns and leaves back for the hub of town before he could puzzle out what she had said. _Useless_. Either this was an elaborate cover up, or the terrified ninja she had threatened had lied to her. It was equally likely to be either. 

Still, she’s burned through the entire afternoon questioning every which person. 

Back to the inn to meet up with Rakan, she supposes, but if there was nothing for them on this border-side town there’d be no point staying here long. 

A drink then perhaps, and an early night. A room with two beds, though if she was lucky there’d only be a room with a single available. 

-_-_- 

Xayah had been thinking about it for weeks. Ever since the… _cave incident_ her and Rakan had been on and off sharing a sleeping space. Nothing more forward than that. 

It was wrong, for one. How could they become anything when she had so much to do? She had her people to rectify, the land to restore, revenge to be gotten. A relationship would just get in the way, make her weak, vulnerable to some exploitation or to further trauma. Not only that, but a relationship with _Rakan_ of all people? The charming, free spirited vagabond? As if he’d tie himself down to just her for very long. He was with her because he adored her cause, just as he adored their people. 

_Still_ , those nights in the sleeping bag, being held not as a fighting partner but as a romantic one haunts her dreams. Her heart skips a beat whenever he smiles at her now, and he does so _often_. 

This aching, this bone-deep yearning, it needs to _stop_. It was getting distracting. 

Complacent. She was getting _complacent_. 

She enters the tavern next door to their lodgings, suddenly feeling sour. It’s a dim, cramped, almost too many tables for such a place. There already were several patrons, only two tables left empty. Scanning the room displayed a majority human populace. This town was mostly human, only a few Vastayan members – as with most human towns this far from the magic-dense timberlands. 

The bartender grunts at her as acknowledgement, and Xayah places a few coins onto the counter. 

“Two shots of rum, and a full bottle of wine.” She waits pointedly until it’s placed in front of her, then she downs the two shots immediately, then takes the bottle by the neck and brings it over to one of the last empty tables. 

She sits and pops the cork, taking the sip straight from the mouth of the bottle. Waits for Rakan to join her, ignores the stink eye the waitress gives her when she puts her feet up on the other stool. 

_But he had kissed her back then, hadn’t he_ ? Just the top of her head, really it could have been a platonic gesture. She’s overthinking again. Scowling, she takes another drink. 

Rakan does enter some ten minutes later, dancing into the room with a clamour, and it’s like the tavernkeeper has suddenly lit an array of candelabras. Rakan goes to the bar first, says something to the barkeep, who then points over in her direction. She watches Rakan’s head follow the pointed arm until his eyes lock onto her, and his face lights up immediately while her chest gets tight. 

Xayah’s traitorous heart skips a beat, choosing instead to jump up to her esophagus. She quickly looks back down at the table. The chair drags against the floor. A familiar presence joins hers. Again, the hush of their meeting grants a void she can sense, a moment where they should be doing something. 

“Hey Xayah~” Rakan taps her hand, she slides the bottle of wine to him. “Thanks! Have any luck finding lotus, or dandelion? Or whatever his name was?” 

“Crocus.” 

Rakan snaps his fingers. “Yeah, Crocus! That’s it. Did you find him?” 

The failure still smarts. 

“No.” She replies, still sounding a little salty. Rakan is unbothered by it as always. 

“That’s rough buddy. Well, you’ll get him next time champ.” He takes a deep drink of the wine. “You’ve been working hard this last while. Take a quick vacation! Come on, have some fun with me!” 

“I shouldn’t.” She’s declining, but not that enthusiastic about the restraint. It almost makes her wince – he’d read her for it, of course. She should really put more effort in if she was going to lie. 

“Come onnn, let me get another bottle for us.” 

As predicted, Rakan homes in on her indecision immediately. In this moment, she can’t resist him. 

“Fine. Hurry up.” She shoos him with her hand, and he practically sprints to the bar to pay for another bottle. While he’s gone, she hears steps approach from behind her. A shadow passes over her table, and a town guard in his shitty tin armour is glowering down at her. 

“I’ve heard about you,” half his words are slurred, alcohol on his breath. Xayah sighs – it was gonna be this sort of night, wasn’t it? 

“I thought you looked familiar… you’re that troublemaker, righ? Goin’ ‘round, trying to take rights away from humans. Take our land away.” 

Xayah looks past the disgruntled man to the rest of the room. The mood has quite abruptly shifted – people have quietened their personal conversations, the attention now all on her. 

_Great_ . 

“You had no problem when it came to taking _our_ land away.” She replies back venomously. Who cares if it aggravated him further? She had no interest in trying to placate such a brute in the first place. Since when was it her job to play peacekeeper? 

She had always been bad at it, anyway. 

The merc is a little red in the face. He brushes bread crumbs out of his beard. 

“Hah! You’re animals, aren’t ya? You don’t need it. Besides, you don’t look so tough. You’re so small – what _man_ can’t handle a rebel like you? I’ve half a mind to end this, right here.” 

“I dare you to do your worst.” Xayah responds confidently, makes a show of pushing back her chair and standing to meet the man. He still reached a good half-foot taller than her, but height didn’t protect against knives. 

Then Rakan is back, holding the freshly opened bottle of wine high in the air, then inverts the bottle, pouring the contents entirely out upon the mercenary’s head. 

“Oops! My bad, I’m just _so clumsy_!” 

His once sand-blonde hair now looked as if it’d been dyed purple. Now empty, Rakan runs his tongue over the mouth of the bottle in a single, carnal lick, getting the last few drops off the tip. 

“Wow, I just don’t get how these bottles work! Us animals usually just drink straight from the stream. Right, Xayah?” 

Then he playfully winks at her. Xayah can practically see steam coming out of the merc’s ears. She waits for the explosion. _One… two_ … 

Then the merc hollers in anger, twists and tries to grab Rakan with his thick, dirt-stained hands. 

Rakan laughs; “You want to dance? Come, show me!” And weaves away, avoiding each beer-sloppy punch and kick. 

“See Xayah?” he shouts to her, “Fun! Enjoy yourself!” and he trips the other man up with his foot, ending the confrontation with not a feather out of place. Rakan bows to the rest of their onlookers – their faces don’t seem impressed. The only other two vastaya in the room suddenly hunch down in their seats, pulling their hoods up. 

“Sub-human dirt-bloods!” Someone across the room yells, and that was all the warning they got. A green bottle is thrown – it exploded into shards of glass somewhere against the wall behind them. Rakan, ever the fan of a commotion, immediately throws their wine bottle back. 

Then, it starts. 

The three young men the next table over dive at them, knocking their table over and sending the Lhotlan duo rolling to the floor. Xayah knees the man atop of her so hard in the stomach he has to roll off of her to vomit up his last tankard of beer. Rakan gives her a thumbs up before ducking past the other young man’s punch, moving out of the way just in time for him to punch his buddy instead. Then the two turn on each other, tumbling to the floor in a flurry of fists and nails. 

Xayah yelps when someone new grabs her hair and jerks her back, but Rakan is with her in an instant, knocking her assaulter into the air with a flourish of his wing-cloak and tossing him across the room where he lands onto a table. The weak legs give out instantly, sending him crashing onto the floor. 

This time someone throws a chair. It misses by a long-shot, and amidst yelled curses, grunting and shouts it hits the next table over. The nearby waitress screams and jumps to hide behind the fireplace. 

“We’re throwing chairs now??” Rakan asks, picking up his own stool and lobbing it into the room. “Whooo! Xayah, you try!” 

Xayah laughs, picks up her stool and gives it a weak lob. It goes hardly any distance, not even breaking as it lands onto the floor. Rakan tuts at her with faux disappointment. Another wine bottle flies their way and hits Rakan in the chest. It bounces off, relatively harmlessly. 

“My face is up here!” He shouts back in the direction of the bottle, pointing with both hands at his head, then looks down at Xayah. “Really, it’s like they’ve never been in a brawl before!” 

Two farmers accost them then, swiping with jagged, half-broken bottles. One swipes and gets Xayah in the chest, tearing her dress and making the cut sting from the alcohol. 

“Shit!” She punches the arm with the bottle, grappling to steal it away from the teen before he could swipe at her again with it. 

“You okay?” Rakan is atop a table now, jumping and poking harmlessly at two assailants that jab at him with a cracked off table leg, eventually picking one of the men up and tossing him into the other. 

“Yeah, thanks!” She calls back, wrestling the bottle free. She chucks it to shatter against the wall like so many others before sending its owner to the floor with a kick to the shin. 

Rakan’s now a steady presence at her back, covering her six. Blood on his knuckles, Xayah’s not sure if the blood she tastes is her own or someone else’s, but half the room is dazed on the floor, some still are fighting amongst themselves, and Rakan is laughing and brawling alongside her like the entire world was just a game. 

“Xayah – “ He starts and she knows instantly. His hand rests on her left rib over her torn dress, and the light tingling of mending skin distracts her for a moment. “I want to do this, forever.” 

To her ears, everything else goes quiet. No yelling or groaning of the tavern patrons, no sounds of stomping or breaking furniture. It’s just his words, repeating in her shocked mind. 

“Wh-what?” She laughs awkwardly, fighting the blush she knows is rising. “We can’t fight for fun every day. I still have things to accomplish, you know.” 

He shakes his head, smile smoothing down into a more serious, albeit hopeful expression. 

“No, I want to be where you are, even after this is done. I’ll always cover you. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.” 

This was different than the time with the bandits two years ago, when he had asked to accompany her. Then they were strangers, he pettily interested in her solely due to her disinterest in him. By now Rakan should understand that she wasn’t just hard to impress, she was even slower to trust. That wall had eroded though little by little, much to her distaste. 

“You’ll fight for me? Forever?” She’s still doubtful even with everything they’ve been through. He’s been stable with her these last few months more than ever; hadn’t even seen him taking any strangers to bed since they’d shared a sleeping bag, however he did often sneak off while she was resting or otherwise occupied. She supposes he’d just become more covert. It was considerate of him, but it still left a sour taste in her mouth. 

Rakan’s hand on her rib withdraws, and she almost protests but his face goes serious, then kicks away the closest table and any intact stools to clear an open space. Still high off the thrill of the tavern brawl he stands facing her and Xayah finds him looking all bright and alight like an otherworldly spirit. 

Her heart is racing too, though if it’s from the fight or from the anticipation of what’s next she does not know. _Something about this_ … Xayah is transfixed, each second feeling like hours. She can’t drag her eyes away from this image. _His charm? No, this was more natural_. 

Then he strikes a pose, confidence in his strut but slight nerves showing in his eyes. In front of her his cape separates into proper wings, shining with magic, which he then cocked out into a strong span and began to dance, wild and twirling. This wasn’t just a battle dance, it was a declaration of _intent._ She watches as Rakan flicks his wings skyward while ducking down and etching unseen symbols with intricate footwork into the floor, then weaving to the side smoothly only to abruptly stop his movement with a sharp _thwak_ of wings against air; his body control on display meant for her and her alone. 

A courting declaration, should she opt to accept it. Somehow, she felt that even if she refused he’d be persistent, back at her every night with the same hopeful look and the same entrancing dance. It was with a strange feeling in her chest that she realised that this was why he was sneaking off each night, only to return even later either smelling of sweat - or if they were near a body of water - damp from a wash. He had been _practising_. 

There it is, her blood-pump stuttering and singing with some foreign attraction. _Why_ , she wonders, _why him, and why now when she had finally become so certain of_ _her future_? 

Magic is chaos, she knows; it’s the natural state of the world. She should have known better than to plan her life. 

He looks magnificent, spinning and ducking into a bow then freezing in place, holding his supplementing pose a moment before reaching out a fisted hand, slow and cautious with genuine nerves. 

It was an offering for her, if she wanted to take it. Xayah could see the tenseness in his back. He was uncharacteristically quiet too, patience somehow managing to hold through-out the ordeal. This wasn’t something she’d ever experienced before herself. She had only seen displays from other male Lhotlans a rare few times before in her own tribe, and that was only because they were publicly competing for the same partner. This was normally a private affair; and before her tribe disappeared she was far too young to have experienced it herself. 

Xayah held her own hand out, from curiosity more than anything else. She could give him a chance, at least. He opened his fist and a tiny ring dropped into her palm, too small to be for her fingers. That in itself gave her relief. 

A nose ring, shiny and gold, sparkling in the setting sunlight. She had no idea where he could have gotten it from, since almost all of their time was spent within eye or earshot of each other. _He must have been holding onto it for a while._ She slid it into her cartilage in place of her current ring made of bone, and when her eyes refocused back at him she saw him trying to hide a smile and failing. 

His hand was still hovering in invitation. At some point, she’d have to answer. 

Sighing, she slid her hand into his, letting herself get pulled into a twirl and a dip. Rakan was keeping his hands respectful at the waist as he pulled her back up and led her feet into a simple step dance, humming along while doing so. 

It’d been a long time since she’s danced like this, rather than with knives and blood. The longer they stepped together the more she relaxed; letting her body do the thinking as their pace increased and their dance became mostly twirling and spinning, orbiting each other like the sun and moon. Rakan seems ecstatic, face set in a wild grin while his eyes shined like the stars as he continued to lead their frantic dance. 

He really was something else, something unique - how had she not acknowledged it before? At this she finds her heart clenches for a third time that night, and when he unexpectedly lifted her firmly over his head she finds herself shrieking with insincere protest, and finally managed to smile down at his sunny face. 

_“Miella_ …” he hummed in his throat and her face goes red, bringing her back to reality. He lowered her while spinning and pulls their bodies flush by the time her feet touch the ground again. She clings to him not for want of the hug but mostly because of the wave of dizziness coursing through her. Or at least, that’s what she says aloud. By the chuckling above her, she knows he knows it too. He always did, without her needing to say it. 

“Will you have me?” He asks as she pulls away from him, watching her carefully as if prepared for her to run away. 

He’s so earnest, Xayah thinks. _Why shouldn’t she take what she wants_? Cautiously, she looks up at him, trying to clear her face of any indication of her feelings. 

“Where’s this coming from?” She needs to know. If this is another flight of fancy she won’t be able to forgive it. But perhaps, that was something he recognised too. 

“It needed to be said.” He replies simply. 

Something below her skin is boiling, bubbling, needing to be acknowledged. It’s a tug towards him, weakly pulling from her blood to touch his flesh. So she places her hand back in his. Pulls down on it so he leans forward, then kisses him lightly on the lips just long enough to send a message. Two seconds was hardly more than a shy peck. 

Still, her lips tingle after they separate. 

“Only if you’ll have me too.” She says to his shoulder, it was almost too corny to say. Rakan grins again, cockiness returning now full force now that her decision has been made. 

“I’d want nothing more.” He leans to put his forehead to her brow for just a few seconds. Though she doesn’t need it she keeps her hand in his after he tugs away towards the door. 

“Shall we leave? I think they’re going to kick us out soon.” He jerks his head toward over his shoulder, where the tavernkeeper and the bartender are finally peeking up from their hiding place behind the bar-counter to survey the damage. The rest of the conscious patrons are still staring at Rakan, whether dazed by his strange dance or just charmed by his presence. It would wear off soon. 

“Yeah. This place was boring me anyway.” She grins back and lets Rakan lead the way out of the building. They step over shards of glass and half-conscious, groaning bodies before they can make it back outside to the chilly night air. 

-==-=-=- 

They retreat to the room she’d paid for earlier, a single bed for two of them to share. Perhaps she made a mistake in only getting the one, she thinks, considering how unsure she is of their relationship now. 

Would they need to… _progress_ , now? 

The reality kicks in now that she’s losing the adrenaline, in this change of scenery. What had she agreed to? They weren’t mates officially yet, nor lovers, no formal claim had been consummated. 

Suddenly the single bed seems a bit more intimidating than it did that morning when she had rented it. 

Who knew that losing everyone you ever knew at a young age would stunt her in such areas? She was a complete recluse for many of the years after her clan’s disappearance; dwelling, mulling, _festering_. Rakan was a sun in her life; burning hot and brilliant, melting her icy heart and clearing away a fog. This sort of thing had not even been a _thought_ for a near eternity. 

But it left her green. Green as young spring grass. 

Untested, untried. Her experience with men started and ended with the bandits attempting their assault on her years ago – oh, and sharing body heat with Rakan, of course. 

He flops on the bed, rolls to one side and pats the sheets invitingly. Not in a lascivious manner, but as an excited child eager to whisper and laugh all night with a nest-mate. Xayah carefully comes to sit on the edge of the bed, a little stiff. Rakan laughs, lunges for her and lifts her by the waist. She yelps in alarm as he pulls her back into the cushions, pokes and prods at her sides until she’s laughing, wiggling and kicking out with her feet. She tries jabbing back at him but he’s not as ticklish, and he tolerates her weak retaliation for a few seconds with only a few chuckles before halting his own, sighing contentedly with a little chirp. 

She giggles as she winds down, Rakan peels down the blankets and rushes to bed down in this lull, untying his foot wrappings and settling in, puffing pillows and arranging bedding. 

“Need your hair brushed? Feathers straightened?’ Rakan leans over the side of their bed, nicks a brush from his pack and runs it through his own hair a few times. 

Xayah sheds her daywear, forming her simple night-slip in preparation of the night. She unwinds her hair tie, gives her hair a few run throughs with her fingers. It needs a brush. She looks at Rakan, looks back at her lap, then blushes. 

Grooming was reserved for close family and mates. She hadn’t had another person’s hands at her feathers for a very, very long time. 

Yet she scoots back, straightens her shoulders, silently nods to motion him to proceed. 

Rakan starts at her hair first. Takes his time, working in long, full strokes from scalp to ends. She tilts her head with the brush, enjoying the scratch and the attention. 

“Your new nose ring looks great on you.” He says in between his work and his humming. “Where’d you get it?” 

“It was a gift.” 

“A gift? Wow, your admirer has such good taste!!” 

“I don’t know…” She teases. “You don’t think it’s too much?” 

“Never! You deserve the best.” 

He keeps at her hair, brushes out all the tangles with minimal tugging. She starts to hum too, and Rakan laughs delightedly at her enthusiasm. 

“What?” She cuts off, immediately self conscious. 

“No no! It’s cute. You’re cute. You never sing with me.” 

“Never will again, now.” 

“Ahh no don’t say that that!!” He tosses the hairbrush to the side and instead reaches to her feathers, pushes his fingers to the root and traces his nails against the skin hidden there. Xayah flinches at the sudden switch, and the ghost of a memory - _of phantom hands holding her down and trying to strip her clean_ \- peeks like an unwelcome guest from the basement of her memory. He retracts from her personal space immediately at her reaction, but she forces herself to take in a deep breath, then lets it out slow. 

“Xayah?” He asks after she’d finished counting to ten. 

“Of course. Sorry, just – “ 

“Never apologise. It’s fine Xayah, you don’t have to explain. Can I still fix you up?” He waits then for her, tender hands upturned and waiting on her next move. Xayah moves back with no hesitance, stretches her wings back out then waits for his pampering to continue. 

One at a time, feather by feather he preens her down, straightening and smoothing every part of her. An itch, long neglected feels as though it’s being scratched. Xayah tenses briefly when he brushes a blind spot, but it’s quickly soothed by practised hands. _He’s good at this_ , she thinks and for a moment she bristles, ruining a little of his work, causing him to backtrack to re orient a multitude of her calamus. He’d been with countless others before, male and female, human and vastayan. This was a routine he was familiar with. Perhaps a common ritual of his for bedding. 

But there’s nothing wrong with that, in theory. It didn’t mean he liked her any less, thought of her any less. Did he dance for everyone he wished to romance? To declare a temporary courtship with each person he meets just for the ease of a night seemed far too unsavoury of a thing for Rakan to do. 

Xayah can admit that her strengths did not lie in spiritual awareness, she not wise enough or practised enough of it to sense as much as she could be. But her lips still tingled from where she had kissed him, and his preening of her felt easily a hundred-fold times better than they’d ever felt when she’d done them herself. 

His dance for her had been beguiling and sensuous, earnest. It continues in her mind, his spinning and intent steps, his bow and tense pose. Patient, anticipation. Her stomach flutters. 

“There, done.” He brushes his fingers down his feathers one final time, then stops patting at her wings. 

“They look great. I did an _excellent_ job.” He praises himself as much as her, making a pleased whistle as he gives his final appraisal. 

So, now for her rebuttal. 

“Let me do yours.” She says quickly, stumbling over her words. Heat rises to her face, her boldness taking even herself back a moment, but he turns quick at her words and lifts her downturned head with a few kind fingers. Rakan’s smiling at her. He looks so happy, sparkling from genuine excitement. Then he turns so his back is to her, waits for her to proceed. 

She _wants_ to reciprocate. Tentatively she shuffles closer and touches his plumage. 

Rakan’s feathers were longer than hers. Peacock-y in nature, they reflected this in both length and colour. No matter his mood they shone with innate magic. She pressed two fingers together on either side of the vane and ran her fingers all the way down to the end while appreciating their light beauty. 

“You’re very pretty you know,” she muses aloud before she could catch herself. “Or at least, your feathers are. Did you know that?” 

“I might have heard it mentioned it once or twice. But _thank you_ for saying so.” His voice lilts and she can tell he’s itching to turn around and watch her face as he teases, but meagre self-control wins out and he manages to stay put. 

She gets to work. 

His are more easily managed than hers, their longer length and very attentive upkeep attributing to this. Still, she takes it slow and manages it much in the manner he did hers, digging her fingernails to the root of each calamus before dragging her fingers down around each individual vane all the way to the tip, working in lines. 

Unlike her, Rakan _does_ purr in satisfaction while she works, vocal as he is, while occasionally cutting off to give input on what sections to target or just general encouragement. 

Xayah’s still embarrassed but it lessens the more she focuses on her task. Before she knows it she’s straightening his last plume – everything complete besides his tail feathers. 

“You’re done.” She withdraws her hands. 

“Thank you.” Rakan briefly inspects her work. He chirps at her, pleased. “You did well for a beginner. I don’t mind being a practise dummy. But really. Thank you Miella, I do appreciate it~” 

He purrs his words and rests their foreheads together once more. It’s nice in a soft, calm way. But it doesn’t seem like enough. 

Suddenly ravenous she intercepts him then, leaning her head up to meet him for another kiss. 

The first two are soft and exploring, but the third time she’s not as gentle. The tingling grows to a throbbing gnawing hole, the urge to be closer draws her hands to his upper arms, digging in with her fingers and chasing that feeling. 

That undeniable need calls to her, and to not oblige it would be madness. It felt right to be here with him, the beast she’d been ignoring for months singing and settling at his touch. Xayah wants to taste tongue, wants to see if doing so makes the animal rouse or puts it to sleep once and for all. 

Then he breaks their kiss. Chest heaving, he asks; 

“Xayah. Are you sure?” 

His dance spinning and ducking replays in her mind. Weaving and settling, practised in the dead of day or night when her watching eyes were elsewhere. For _her_ when it could have been anyone. Her yearning had been reciprocated after all. 

She’s not as practised in knowledge of the spirit realm, the world that mirrors this mortal one. But she knows enough to understand that them choosing to lie together meant mingling their souls, rubbing the very core essences of their beings against each other. Tis why a proper mating was viewed as so monumental. The start of a soul-pair was something to be celebrated, a more long-term relationship guaranteed that their sho’ma would start to mingle and become familiar to each other. 

Many older couples that’d been paired for decades could communicate without speaking in this way, a wordless love. Someday if they were lucky, that would be them. 

She was ready. 

Xayah takes Rakan’s hand and brings it from her hip to her breast; hooks his thumb in between the fabric of her night-slip and her skin, uses it to give it a light tug down then drops his hand. Imploring with her eyes, she waits with bated breath for his next move. She doesn’t know what to anticipate, except that it would be in his field, and Rakan _should_ know. 

Instead he chuckles, and she pouts, discomfit twisting her quasi-boldness into some silly half-baked attempt at seduction. She should have known better. Xayah hides her face back in his neck, waiting for the world to swallow her whole. 

“No honey, don’t be like that. You’re just so cute!!” 

He resumes kissing then, moving along her neck and left shoulder, speaking between each kiss. “If you wanted me to undress you… all you needed to do was ask.” 

The string ties about the midsection of her nightdress was mostly decorative – they typically formed their clothes from magic, anyhow, so most often clothes fit exactly as how they were wanted to. Still, Rakan’s hands wandered there first, pulling out the bow and dropping the loose string to the side. 

The fabric he reaches next, unwraps her like a gift. Runs his fingers down the seams of the dress dissolving it all into magic dust that quickly fades under his hand. Xayah feels her face involuntarily turning red, body tensing as her skin meets open air. Suddenly shy, she has to force herself to not look away from Rakan as the last of her clothing fades from sight. 

“My heart, look at me.” He waits for her eyes to rise back up to his face. Cups her cheek with a large palm, runs his thumb down her jawline. 

“We don’t have to – “ Rakan insists again but Xayah shakes her head, shakes free of his worried hand. 

“I want to. I do! I’m just…” 

“I know. I understand.” Rakan leans for another kiss which Xayah indulges, leading her fingers to a lower destination while he’s distracted. 

His pants are tied with a perky bow; she pulls it loose and the fabric drops with little more provocation. Next, his jerkin is unbuttoned and discarded. Magic dust, all of it. They part for air. 

Now she draws a blank. The steps after their skin being bare were unclear to her. Rakan of all people should know, should guide the proceedings at least a little. She just doesn’t want to be bad for him, ruin his pleasure with her inexperience. She’s heard it hurts, maybe, sometimes. She isn’t sure what is fact or fiction; not like she’d giggled with girls about it as a teenager. 

“Can I touch you?” He puts a hand on her hip, grazing the bone with his fingers. “Or, if you want you can touch me. Get familiar.” He winks at her, getting a little coy. Xayah shakes her head no, she didn’t feel like she could bear touching him right now. Maybe in a little, when she was braver. 

“You can touch me first, if you want. My turn after.” Even saying it makes her blush flare up yet again. Rakan chuckles endearingly, somehow patient with her childishness. 

This was it. His hands trace her body, go to touch her skin, her tummy and hips. Cups her breasts with a certain reverence, not being rough in any sense. He really is just scanning her over, mapping her body out. It tickles when he traces her inner thigh, virgin flesh tender and shy. 

“You’re so soft.” He remarks, voice awed. 

Xayah thinks that her actions must seem like those of an awkward fledgling to him, but maybe he found that charming. 

That amount of skin-ship seemed enough for him. He pulls her so their chests touch and resumes kissing her neck, not in any hurry. When he nipped with his teeth she gripped his back tighter until his nips turned to a suction over the bite mark, then placed a light kiss there as he pulled back. _Why wasn’t he touching her more_? She was going mad with the need of it. 

Finally, he arranges them to lay straighter on the mattress and settles over her while anticipation lays heavily over them. Rakan moves first as always, trailing kisses down to her belly button. She squirms under him, and he tolerates a few wiggles before moving his hands down and gripping her thighs firmly, spreading them apart. 

With a relishing slowness he traces over her upper thighs with his lips, kissing the soft inner skin there and moving up, up, up until he was so _close._ Nosed his way to her pubis before stopping. 

Rakan grins up at her from between her thighs. 

“Are you ready?” He licked his lips with purpose, and she finds herself nodding without even quite thinking through what he meant. She only knew she needed him to do _something_. 

He moved his face back down and took his hand off her thigh in order to spread her folds. 

“Oh. You’re…” Rakan starts, then stops. He had sounded surprised but shakes it off quickly. “I’ll try extra hard then.” 

Xayah tenses a little at the feeling of someone else’s hand on her privates, but when something hot and wet circled her clit all reservations went out the window as she whines and grabs at his hair. He hums, happy at her enthusiasm and pushes harder, nose pressing into her skin and moving downwards to shove his tongue in deeper, invading somewhere where only hesitant fingers had ever been before. 

She had never heard of this. No story from her clan that reached her ears talked about such actions, and things overheard in unsavoury bars mostly spoke of women using their mouths for pleasure, _not_ the other way around. 

This was worship of her and everything she was. She bucks her hips but Rakan’s hands hold her still. 

There was a warmth spreading from her gut throughout her entire body, embers stoked to flames at his ministrations. The longer he went, the more that feeling built, tingling and throbbing in time with her mounting pulse. Yet it was somehow unsatisfying; this superficial pleasure. It wasn’t enough, not by a long shot. She says so aloud, and Rakan seems to take it as a challenge. He removes his mouth and moves back up to her clit, then a single finger traced around her sex before sliding in where his tongue had been. It was better than before, but something inside her whispered that it wasn’t long enough, wasn’t _thick_ enough. She whined and clenched around the digit, then flushed in embarrassment when she felt something warm drip out of her. Her body wasn’t even pretending to be in control. 

“Don’t be embarrassed… you’re so beautiful.” Rakan praises, voice overflowing with wonder. He slips in a second finger and rubs it against her inner walls. “You could probably take me now.” 

“Rakan…” Xayah says in warning, trying to keep her voice from trembling. She was largely unsuccessful. This was much more intense than any few sessions she had with her body on her own. At this rate she was going to be done before he even started. 

He stopped and kissed a line up her abdomen, between her breasts until they were face to face again. Smiling giddily he brushes their noses together in a frejlordian kiss. 

“Doing okay?” His eyes are shining as rubs his hand up her flank. He looked just as excited as she felt, glowing with the joy of their soon to be joining. Xayah flicks him in the nipple and he pouts. 

“No fair.” She says, “I’m way more worked up than you.” 

“Don’t think that. I’d say we’re about equal.” He moves his head down to kiss at her neck again, grazing the untouched side with his teeth. The room was warm and flickering with candlelight. They were hidden away from the world with a night to spend on each other - it made it easy to forget about everything but him. “How about these?” He went to her right breast and squeezed it, thumb pinching lightly at the nipple. It sent a jolt of lightning to her gut, despite the alien feeling of them being handled. 

“Don’t tease.” She whines, starting to feel more pathetic. 

“Alright, alright. Another time.” He placatingly pulls his hand away. It was with a whole new level of anticipation that he asks; “Want me to take you?” 

She was ready twenty minutes ago, when the urge was a tingling anticipation. Now she was bordering on uncomfortable; wet and hot and aching. It wasn’t just physical. Something deep nestled between her heart and her head was singing a song of yearning. Something besides her body was crying out for their joining. It was like she was missing him, even though he was right next to her. A voice in the back of her mind reassured her that once they lay together, that would change. 

Xayah nods again and holds her breath. Rakan really was broad compared to her, taller and wider as he orients himself above her, lining himself up. The tip of his manhood brushes her entrance and she keens, squirming until his hands go down to help her steady. 

“Do you want to touch me first?” He asks once again. The offer from before was still on the table. Xayah blushes from the expectation. 

“I can... if you don’t mind waiting.” She replies quietly, and Rakan eagerly smiles. 

“Take as long as you want.” Then he flops to lie on his side next to her, the nerves of an imminent mating lessening just a bit. 

Xayah breathes. 

First, she touches his face, the smooth warmth of his cheek, the sideburns. He tilted his head into her hand, seemingly enjoying the touch, eyes shutting briefly. She leans in with a few more kisses, pulls at his upper lip while Rakan tries to chase her lips back. She grins and pushes his face back, retreating temporarily to her half of the bed until he pouts and flops back onto his back. His eyes plea a renewed patience, so she returns. 

His abs she admires quickly, the throbbing of her lower half rushing her appraisal of him. Though often he was shirtless, so it wasn’t new to her. 

Down below was different. 

Her touch is tentative, she doesn’t want to press or poke too hard. Men were sensitive down there, she didn’t want to risk hurting him. Still she watches him carefully as she briefly puts her hand around his manhood, gives it a light squeeze, then looks to him for his reaction. Rakan is still smiling encouragingly at her. 

“Are you intimidated?” He winks at her. She immediately lets go of him and rolls her eyes playfully. 

“Not at all. Probably won’t even feel it.” She’s confident he’d fit inside her. How hard could it be? The flesh in her hand didn’t seem like it would be too long or wide. 

Rakan laughs at her bravado and gives her another kiss. 

“Of course, Miella.” 

The endearment still makes her heart skip. A semi-awkward pause as she waits patiently for him to move. Why wouldn’t he stop talking and just… get on with it? Rakan was the one with all the experience here, not her. 

As if reading her thoughts, Rakan’s fingers start tracing around her intimates once more. 

“You were a bit tight earlier… I’ll be gentle, okay? Tell me if you want me to stop.” 

She swallows. 

“I trust you.” 

His eyes are soft. 

“I love you.” He says back, and Xayah takes a moment to swallow the knot that suddenly forms in her throat. She can’t say it back. It sticks like sap to her mouth, and she ends up biting her lip, moving her eyes away while the butterflies ravage her stomach. 

Luckily he doesn’t wait for a reply and instead silently puts their foreheads together, then returns to being situated over her, lining himself up between her spread legs. The height difference made it harder, forcing him to hunch a bit to keep their heads close. 

He slips inside her slowly, inch by slow inch and for that she’s thankful. Then, a blip. She hisses; and he clucks with sympathy at her even as she digs her nails into his torso. _Her hymen_. She had forgotten. The proof of her virginity parts against his entry, the thin tissue getting steadily pushed to the side as he slowly delves deeper. It stings. Coupled with his slow stretch it’s almost enough to undo the work he’s done earlier; reality sharpening for a moment from the hazy warmth. 

“Ah.” Rakan breathes, realising it the moment she does. He pauses his sheathing then, leans more forward and steals her lips back, plucking a few kisses from her, nipping a bit as she pulls away, dipping down again to meet as she puckers back up. His hand coasts her side, hugging her into him. 

Each kiss revives that hungry urge. It’s deep in her gut, harder than any craving to ignore. This monster of her heart and soul was still begging for scraps of _something_. His other hand’s back at her breast, carefully tracing over her skin and Xayah sighs, air-light, as her legs unfurl like a lotus flower. 

The stinging has stopped. There’d be blood on the sheets in the morning, no doubt. She digs her ankles into his lower back to pull him in and he goes without hesitation to plant his hips between her thighs, sinks lower and lower until their groins touch. Now fully sheathed in her Rakan makes a soft sound in his throat, drops his head to kiss over her carotid. 

That was it. Something had changed, now. That voice, that song that had been guiding her to this point. Even though it’s tight, even though he feels much bigger than she’d thought when he’d been in her hand. Even still, it feels like… _it feels like_ … 

Rakan takes her hand, weaves their fingers together tightly just as their bodies were together chest to chest. 

Their eyes meet. He smiles at her, and some of her fears were put to rest. Then, he _moves_. 

He’s slow. She hardly notices his withdrawal at first, though the emptiness strikes her needy, then the re-entry makes her gasp. He’s being careful with her, not jolting her too much but rather getting her acquainted with the feeling. 

A few more careful slides and she locks her ankles around his back, pulling him in a little harder. 

Rakan gets the hint. His next thrust is stronger, and the sound of him meeting her body is a visceral smack. He repeats it again, faster, and Xayah’s head falls back onto the pillow. 

_Oh_ . This was what she was missing. 

This uniting of flesh, this warm joining of forces was a cure to the ache between her legs. His forward thrusts sent spikes of pleasure running up and down her spine, melting her muscles until her legs effectively felt like butter. 

At this moment she’s thankful for his hand in hers, it made her feel like she had some control. If their bed was the sea then his hand was the lifeboat. Once more, and her mouth falls open while she lets out a loud moan. The tiny spark that’s stirring in her loins burns along the wick until all she can think about is her need to fulfil it, her need to feed this fire until it consumes her, consumes them both. 

Her face reddens at the sound of her own lewd voice, and she bites her lip to keep herself quiet. Two seconds later and a whine sneaks through, and she gives up entirely on the venture. She’s a candle being burnt on both ends; a whining writhing mess. Rakan grunts when she pivots her hips up, protruding her up to further accept his intent. She needs him, _needs_ this. How did she live so long without this? Without lying down, accepting his mount and taking him like a mate? She claws at his back, gasps and clenches, begging him more, more, _more_ \- 

Rakan separates their entwined hands and puts both of his hands on her hips, pulling her body hard against him for each roll of his hips, pulling her back in a frantic, uneven rhythm to reach completion. Something’s building, growing bigger and stronger, she worries that acknowledging it would make this blessed, perfect feeling flee. Closing her eyes, she savours the pressure, his fingers digging into her hip bones. There’d probably be bruising there tomorrow. She’s glad. 

Soon she can’t ignore it anymore, can no longer fight the fire she was so desperately fanning. Breathing alongside Rakan with pleasured, exerted puffs of breath she lets go of her last shred of control. Rakan must sense it; he retakes her hand and squeezes it tight, dropping his body for a final hard thrust that stretches her so deeply she fears she’d pop. 

That’s it. Too much for her to take, a wave of pleasure crashes into her, steals her breath and explodes in her brain like fireworks. Xayah cries out, voice trembling as she spasms, body quaking and squeezing around Rakan’s shaft, sucking him in deep and clamping down. Rakan gasps her name, pulls her body back flush with his before borrowing his face into her neck. 

For a few beautiful seconds all she can feel is the throbbing, cresting euphoria, washing over her every second, lessening gradually each time. She’s boneless, floating in a lake of contentment. Slowly, she comes back to herself, finds herself clinging to Rakan with him clutching her with equal fervour, kissing a fresh hickey made on her throat. There’s a foreign warmth deep inside her, near where she can feel the tip of Rakan’s prick still nestled in her depths. 

Her face goes hot, understanding the sentiment of the finalised claim. Rakan leads her back to look at him, sated and satisfied, then kisses her slow to sweetly bring her back down to earth. It lacks the voraciousness of their earlier intensity, but she enjoys it all the same. His pupils are blown with pleasure – she’s sure hers are a mirror of the same, hormones drowning them both. Amongst his kisses he pulls out of her and lies on his side, the sensation followed by warm drips from her entrance. 

Xayah realises she’s smiling. She can’t wipe it from her face, even as she tries. The happy, bubbling feeling refuses to leave her, stronger than any natural afterglow. She settles onto his chest and hugs into him hard, resting her head down and curling her body up to cling to him, kissing wherever she could reach. Rakan indulges her by yanking up the blankets and tucking them snug around them both, ending his fidgeting with hugging her into him with his strong arms. 

Everything feels… warm. Content. Occasionally he drops his head to kiss her forehead, her scalp, over her hair, crooning to her some sweet nothings in the ancient tongue, but other than that it’s peaceful. The turbulent storm in her had temporarily stilled, leaving waters showing a mirror quality reflection of her heart. 

It’s not just a basic laying, it’s impossible for it to feel this good, right? There had to be something _else_. She rubs her hands over his firm chest muscles, sighing happily as she rests her cheek over a pec and flattens down her ears. Whenever he breathes she moves slightly up, then back down. It’s oddly relaxing. Like being swayed in a swing. 

They’re complete… that’s what it was. She hadn’t known she had been missing a part of her, but with their bodies twined so tightly together it seems their spirits had chosen to do the same, filling an incorporeal hole in her soul. 

His heartbeat is steady in her ears, a loud _thump-thump_ that slows gradually while he rubs at her back, keeping low and steady even as his hands eventually still and his breathing evens out. 

Xayah doesn’t want to sleep just yet. She wants to hold him a little longer, even if sleep beckons to her like an old friend. 

This was scary. They were entwined now, destinies and sho-ma comfortably acquainted. It made things more complicated now. If she thought him leaving her before would cause her discomfit, now it made her outright anxious. If he left her now – as he well could - then she wasn’t sure she would be able to recover. 

“I love you too.” She whispers back, an admittance she can make here to him in this moment. She can breathe in the scent of his skin and their exertion, calm herself against the body of her lover. 

At her words, she hears Rakan’s heartrate skyrocket, jump from it’s resting pace to an excited bounding even though he remained almost deathly still. 

Appalled, she wants to give him a charley-horse for being so deceitful, but instead again she gets flustered, squeezes her eyes shut and tries not to think too much about love and what this would mean for them from now on. 

_-_-_-_-_-_ 

Something’s different when she awakens. Not different _bad_ , but definitely _different_. A niggling tickle at the back of her mind, like an independent intrusive thought. 

It’s thoughts of bliss, of a simple joy that leaks from that point to trickle down through her. Not dominating her thoughts, but just at the threshold a little past being easily dismissible. Perhaps she could learn to ignore it with time, but right now it’s a new feeling, a new power that begs experimentation. 

Physically she’s still on Rakan’s chest. Their legs are tangled together, his arms and wings still embracing her, blankets still tucked snug. She’d slept well, here in his arms. 

She breathes. 

Moves her hand a little – Rakan doesn’t stir. He’s a heavy sleeper, she knows from their camping but it never hurts to be careful. To be too bold – she wouldn’t dare. 

Down his chest, palms over the strong muscles, traces lines across his ribs. There’s a scar on his right pec, from an arrow he barely dodged. Meant for his heart, but it hit the mirror opposite side. 

_Probably an injury he’d gotten because of her._ It’d been a victory they celebrated at that time, his wounds and hers quickly forgotten, but how long now until he gives his life for hers? Their mate-ship amplified this possibility greatly. 

She kisses over the scar. 

He’s asleep, he won’t know of such sentiment. Even with the ever-leaking joy she asks herself, _is this really okay_? 

Steadily the joy starts to sour in her gut. 

Carefully slides a hand up to touch Rakan’s jaw, rubs a thumb across his cheek, flick her nail over his slight facial fuzz. His lips are slightly open, sleeping breaths of air puff out every few seconds. Xayah’s mouth tingles again. She could kiss him again, right here. She licks her own lips and thinks for a moment, pauses _; last night had been enough._

_What was she thinking_ ? _She shouldn’t have done this. A mistake_ – even the idea of this completion being a mistake has that small voice at the back of her mind crying out in despair, but she quickly silences it. 

_A mistake_ . 

He would be taken from her due to this. It’d be her fault. _She won’t let that happen_. 

She manages to take a shaky, long breath in through her nose, and is assaulted by the smell of sweet woodsmoke. Her racing mind is blank for just a blessed moment, and her nose finds the junction between his neck and shoulder while she takes another deep inhale. 

It was possible for her to protect him. His love for her wouldn’t mean tragedy. 

Rakan finally stirs, and she freezes, train of thought derailing into the abyss, revived nerves rushing to make her dizzy. 

Even acknowledging that she’s awake would possibly be too far. Does she fake being asleep, or admit to being awake for a while? She shifts a little as if it would save her the trouble of grasping for the protocol of being the ‘ _first one awake_.’ When they shared beds before platonically they would peel apart easily in the morning, sometimes not even acknowledging the previous night. 

This though feels like something that can’t be addressed in such a manner. 

“Good morning~” Rakan’s tones are still heavy with comfort, though he sounded much more chipper than she felt right now. He kisses somewhere along her hair paten and the icy claws forming in her chest instantly melt as she looks at him. His eyes are sleepy crescents, showing a peek of blue and he tries to land another kiss somewhere closer to her mouth but misses. He settles with rubbing their cheeks together instead. Sickly-sweet adoration pierces her heart like an arrow. _Was he always this endearing_? 

Xayah mumbles a _morning_ back and resumes attempting to pretend to return to sleep. Soon though, the expectation to do _something_ had her fidgeting. Rosy joy retaking her stomach and attempting to escape. 

“What now?” She finally asks, exasperated with her internal argument to stand staying silent any longer. They’re both naked, she abruptly remembers, and shoves her face temporarily into a pillow. 

“What do you mean?” He sounds so _innocent_. 

She shuffles out of her position so she could look at his face. His bright blue disarms her, and the words almost trip on their way out. 

“You know. _What now_?” 

“Now? Well, we can keep lying and cuddle for a bit.” 

“Really? That’s all?” 

Rakan pauses only a moment, taking in her words. Then he wiggles his eyebrows. 

“…Is there something you’re expecting?” 

“No!” She looks down. “I mean –“ 

“I’m joking, I’m _joking_. We do whatever you want to do.” 

“I want to lie back down.” 

Lying down would mean security, she wasn’t ready for this soap bubble to pop yet. Here, with just them she can collect her thoughts. 

“Then we can do that.” 

He kisses at her temple, caresses at her flank and nudges her body up, then slides her off him until she’s off his chest and lying on her side instead. Folding in behind her, one arm slips under their pillow while his other tucks around her waist for a side embrace. 

“I love you.” 

_How does he say it so easily_ ? 

The trickle in her mind sings, and her fears flee. She blinks back her relief, half startled at the sudden-ness. 

It’d be _okay_. She wasn’t alone protecting him, they were together fighting for each other, and maybe, _just maybe_ , this time it’d be enough. 

-=-=-=- 

“Look, she’s really good! I promise! She’ll definitely know who Crocus is! Or where he is. Whatever one you want.” 

Rakan leads the way to the seer’s tree, slightly outside the town. He knows she has a residence somewhere in the woods, and he’d bet that it was a seasonal lodging, but besides that his knowledge of her is limited. That’s how he liked it! 

Perhaps it was safer for her here, to masquerade as a human anyway. 

“This seer… how long have you known her?” Xayah asks. 

“I don’t remember quite how long. At least three years though. I’ve seen her quite a bit though, she’s reliable and she’s got a good sense of humour. Good people sense, doesn’t give you an intimidating vibe like some seers.” 

“I see.” Xayah still doesn’t look like she believes him, but at least she was coming. 

They reach the orange tree. Kohtahl was sitting underneath, serene as always. She nods to both of them. 

“Welcome back Rakan, and the newcomer.” 

Xayah steps forward, passes the silver coin to Kohtahl’s outstretched hand. 

“I have come to ask for information.” 

“I see. I haven’t gotten one of these requests for awhile.” She smiles like she’s in on some secret. 

“Well can you do it?” Xayah asks impatiently. 

“It is within my scope, yes.” 

“Okay. I’m looking for someone referred to as ‘Crocus.’ I believe they are a man, but it could be either sex. Can you find them?” 

“Very well.” 

Kohtahl closes her grey eyes, straightens her back against the tree before she takes a deep breath in through the nose. 

Both birds wait in silence. 

_Perhaps he could slip in the soulmate question without Xayah noticing_ ? Rakan wonders. Though she’d not be likely to believe that sort of thing anyway. 

_Actually, nah. Why even bother to ask?_ He knew in his heart what was right. The song in his mind could not be wrong. It hadn’t ever let him down yet! 

Kohtahl opens her eyes again, fixes them with a dead gaze. 

“You and your soulmate will meet Crocus south-east of here. Near the floating ridge. They are nurturing a blight underground.” 

“Thank you.” Xayah replies quickly, stands as if ready to leave. Then hesitates; “Wait, soulmate?” 

“Alright, that’ll be enough.” Rakan nervously speaks up, ushers Xayah away. “Let’s go. Thank you for your services Kohtahl, brilliant as always. See you again over a drink maybe?” 

“Good luck.” She replies, then situates herself back beneath the tree. 

\- 

As they journey on, Xayah takes his hand first. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Might need to edit this later to fix things, but feel free to discuss my trash with me. <3 See you guys later in polyphony!


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